


Oft Proclaims the Man

by notmyyacht



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Pre-Slash, Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Ugly Holiday Sweaters, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 00:09:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13019136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmyyacht/pseuds/notmyyacht
Summary: The Grandmaster wants to get Loki some new clothes, but what Loki finds among the various outfits is not what he had in mind.





	Oft Proclaims the Man

**Author's Note:**

> For day one of the 12 Days of Holiday Shipping Challenge! Prompt: Ugly Sweaters

Loki was more impressed than anything of the massive, three-storey walk-in wardrobe the Grandmaster kept amongst his many private chambers.

Getting in the Grandmaster’s favor wasn’t going to be easy. Loki knew he already had the advantage of making a good first impression. He could be charming when he wanted to be and he could be enough of a kiss-ass without being too obvious. If anything else on this planet was any indication, it was better to be in this strange man’s good side than his bad and Loki was determined to make his way to the top. He certainly was on that direction, anyway.

In less than three days he had already moved up from nameless servant to shiny new toy for the Grandmaster to play with. That’s what he felt like now, a doll. Grandmaster had picked out several different outfits, lifted them up to Loki’s level, imagining him in them, then tossed them aside with a disgusted scowl.

What Loki wore now was the single layer of his green tunic and black leather trousers. His Asgardian robes were gone, any semblance of a royal stripped away. It had been the price he had to bear in order to survive his first few days on Sakaar. At least he had not lost his hair.

‘This will not do,’ the Grandmaster had said moments after deciding that Loki was to be his new pet.

On a planet surrounded by doors into various places of the universe, it only made sense that clothes would fall through as well. Some torn and ruined, others shining and beautiful. The Grandmaster’s wardrobe consisted of mostly the latter, but as they walked along the catwalk between two long racks, Loki would occasionally spot something he doubted the Grandmaster would ever wear.

The Grandmaster halted in his tracks and turn to his left. Loki almost walked right into his back, but managed to catch himself. The Grandmaster flipped through a few hangers then grinned. He pulled out a long dress that was clearly made for a being twice as tall as Loki. The Grandmaster held it up so the hole for the head lined up with Loki’s neck.

“Hmm,” he said, eying the potential look. “It doesn’t have to be perfect. I do have a tailor.”

Of course he did.

Loki flashed that charming grin and looked down at the dress. It was a pale, puke green that had stripes of glitter across the chest. _Please don’t._ He felt sick looking at it.

The Grandmaster tapped his foot rhythmically. Without warning, he tossed the hideous dress over the side of the catwalk. “No.” He turned on his heel and continued downward. Loki could only follow.

“Why don’t you pick something?” He suggested, not turning around. “Something that pops, that has a _zing_ to it. Something that says _‘you,’_ but also something that _I_ would like. Nothing like the rags you got now.”

Loki eyed the racks upon racks of outfits. Most of the patterns and designs were foreign to him, but once in a while he’d spot something that seemed somewhat familiar. A shawl from Vanaheim, a vest from Xandar. So much culture in such a place made his inquisitive, knowledge-seeking spirit from his youth flare.

And then something caught his eye. He took a step back and turned to the rack on his right. His brow furrowed as he pushed the hangers on either side apart to get a better look.

“These are from Midgard,” he muttered.

“Oh those!”

Loki clenched his jaw to hide being startled by the Grandmaster who was suddenly right behind him, speaking into his ear while looking over his shoulder at the discovery.

“Topaz found those nearby the city two weeks ago. Don’t know what world they’re from, and Sakaar isn’t cold enough to wear such things, but I do like the colors,” said the Grandmaster.

There, amongst the great and the gorgeous clothes from across the universe were two of the ugliest Earth Christmas sweaters he had ever laid eyes on. One was red with a hideous depiction of a dead-eyed Santa Claus across the chest; underneath the picture in large letters were the words ‘MERRY XMAS.’ The second was a basic green with bright red reindeer heads in multiple rows of stripes around the torso. Loki reached under the bottom and quickly found a battery pack. He grimaced and flicked the little switch on the side of it. The sweater lit up in blinking white lights speckled all over in no discernible pattern.

The Grandmaster emitted a soft gasp.

“I didn’t know it did that!” he said. He watched the blinking lights in fascination. “Does the other one do that?”

“No.”

“How did you know how to do that?”

“On Earth, the humans have this festival called Christmas. From what I’ve understood about it, it has religious connotations in its roots, but the reality is that it’s just an excuse for mortals to spend money and their merchants to get rich. Advertisements and commercials and all that.”

“Sounds fascinating. We should try these on. Here,” the Grandmaster said as he pulled the sweaters off the rack, “you wear the blinky one and I’ll wear the one with the demon on it.”

Loki eyes widened as he bit back a protest. He already thought Midgard’s holidays were foolish enough as it was, why was he, thousands of lightyears away, being forced to become a part of the festivities? Was it even Christmastime on Earth?

Not that the Grandmaster cared as he pulled the red sweater over his head and gestured for Loki to do the same. Loki forced a smile and did as he was expected.

The Grandmaster grinned at them and snapped his fingers at his servants. They rushed off to grab a mirror. Loki looked down at the warm, itchy garment with disdain. Never had he ever felt so humiliated by the clothes he wore. He glanced at the Santa on the Grandmaster’s chest. Its black soulless eyes laughed at him.

If Thor was somehow somewhere still alive and if he ever found out about this… Well, Loki would rather kneel before Hela and beg her to remove his head.

The servants returned promptly, carrying a full body mirror. They set it down in front of the two and held it up for them.

The Grandmaster grinned.

“Ha! Look at us! Humans don’t have any fear of death if they willingly wear these to their festivals,” he said, tugging slightly at the bottom of the sweater; it was likely made for someone a size smaller than he.

Loki looked at himself in the mirror and saw a man silently screaming into the void. The lights on his sweater blinked, mocking him.

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” the Grandmaster said, immediately pulling the damn sweater over his head. Loki felt a wave of relief as he removed his own and handed it back to the Grandmaster, who proceeded to throw both of the sweaters over the side of the catwalk. Loki watched the still-blinking sweater land in a clump on the dark floor below. Good riddance.

When he looked back up, the Grandmaster had already moved on.

“Come along. We have to find you something proper to wear in my company.”

Loki jogged slightly to catch up.

“My friend,” he began, settling in step with the Grandmaster at his side, “may I suggest something in leather?”

A spread across the Grandmaster’s face and something mischievous twinkled in his eye.

“Now you’re talking.”

Perhaps gaining this man’s favor would be easier than Loki thought.


End file.
